


more than just a dream.

by frostfall



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Adopted Peter Parker, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Diners, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Diners, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Getting Together, Humor, Insecure Tony Stark, M/M, Matchmaking, Minor Bucky Barnes/Sam Wilson, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Little Shit, Pining, Superfamily
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-29
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-11-07 19:08:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,820
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20822348
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostfall/pseuds/frostfall
Summary: Tony: Fine.Tony: I think I might.Tony: Just might.Tony: Have a teensy-weensy crush.Peter: ;)Peter: Is it who I think it is?Tony: Unfortunately, yes.Tony: You happy now?(Peter thinks he's found the perfect partner for his dad. Tony thinks his son has officially lost his mind. Steve's just oblivious to the fact that he's out of Tony's league.)





	more than just a dream.

**Author's Note:**

> I don't usually write fluff so this was a blast to write. This was supposed to be like 5k words but like most things, things got out of hand.
> 
> The title comes from 'Out Of My League' by Fitz And The Tantrums.

When his son told him that they should eat out tonight, Tony knew something was up.

They hardly go out to eat, resorting to ordering takeout instead. It’s easier that way. And besides, Tony doesn’t need to wash the grease stains off his face.

But Peter had rushed home from school earlier in the afternoon, rambling about some diner that he’s been frequently with his friends for the past few weeks and that Tony should check it out right this instance.

“You know there are a hundred other diners around Manhattan, right?” Tony reminds as he pulls up in front of the establishment. From the outside, the place looks like any typical diner, with a large sign emblazoned in red, white, and blue. _Cap’s Diner_. Nothing about the place warrants a drive to another borough.

Then again, no one goes to the diner for its décor, which is much less mundane inside. The place looks like it came straight out of the forties, with the striking ruby red seats, tiled floorings, sepia photographs in picture frames dotting the walls, and a jukebox in the corner blasting Frank Sinatra.

“But this place has the best pies in all of New York,” Peter says as they snag the only available booth. For a Friday evening, it’s surprisingly filled with people that aren’t over fifty. “And the coffee here isn’t shit.”

“Language, kid.”

Peter rolls his eyes. “Dad, I’m sixteen.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you’re still underaged,” Tony points out. “Which mean, you’re still a kid.”

“I heard five-years-old yell f—”

“Language, Pete.”

Tony whips his head up, about to go on a tirade about how no one, no fucking one can speak to his kid that way except him when he sees the bluest pair of eyes he has ever seen in his entire existence.

Because holy shit. Holy fucking shit.

The man hovering over Peter and him is gorgeous. Hell, gorgeous can’t even begin to describe him. He looks like what Adonis probably looks like, with his broad shoulders, piercing blue eyes, tousled blonde hair and fuck did Tony mention that his eyes are blue because holy shit it’s a clear azure blue and god, Tony’s throat is dry all of a sudden but it could be because he’s thirsty but also—

No. Just no. He’s not here to thirst over some random guy in a diner. He’s here to have dinner with his son. His sixteen-year-old son who doesn’t need to know that Tony’s struggling to not climb Blue Eyes like a tree in front of him and scar him for the rest of his life.

So like the genius he is, he blurts out the first coherent thought that comes to mind.

“You look like sex on legs.”

Peter makes an incomprehensible noise. 

Blue Eyes stills, blinks at him in confusion. There’s a pink blush blooming over his cheeks. It’s an adorable sight. “I— Er— Thanks?”

Immediately, Tony’s words hit him like a ton of bricks.

“Oh god. Oh fucking god… Please ignore that. Oh my _god_.”

“That’s alright, Mr Stark,” Blue Eyes says and oh fuck, he recognizes Tony. Of course, he would. Anyone in the world would be able to recognize his ugly mug from a ten-mile radius. “I’m, uh, I’m not—”

“No, it’s not alright. I’m here with my son and I just said that. In public. Fuck, I swear I don’t do that anymore. I don’t hit—”

“Hey, it’s fine,” Blue Eyes says gently, his gaze softening. He should not be looking at Tony like he’s fond and flattered because they just met and Tony had just said something that could have him charged with sexual harassment. “I, uh, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Tony shakes his head. “No, I—”

“I’m serious, Mr Stark,” Blue Eyes says earnestly. “It’s fine. I’m flattered that someone like you even thinks I’m attractive.”

“Are you kidding?” Tony blurts out. “You’re probably the hottest guy I’ve ever seen in my life.”

Blue Eyes’ cheeks turn crimson red. Out of the corner of Tony’s eyes, Peter’s lips twist into a smirk, barely disguised by his palm.

Oh god, someone should end Tony right now.

“Hey, Steve?” Peter begins. “Why don’t you give us some time to look over the menu? We’ll get back to you soon.”

Blue Eyes, no, _Steve_ nods vigorously, setting the menus onto the table. “Um, yeah. I’ll, uh… I’ll be back. You know, take your time.” He flashes them one last smile, oh fuck that _smile_, before sauntering off to another table. Tony does _not_ look at his ass as he walks away.

Peter’s still pinning him with that smirk of his when Tony returns his gaze, his eyes twinkling with mischief and…and…

And suddenly everything clicks in place.

“Really?”

Peter holds his hands up in surrender. “I didn’t say anything!”

“You’re smirking. I know what’s going on in your head. This is your idea.”

“How is it my idea? I didn’t tell you to tell Steve he’s ‘sex on legs’.”

Tony groans, burying his face in his hands. He’s never going to live this down. God, he can only hope there isn’t anyone that overheard him say that. Unless Steve runs to the press. He doesn’t seem like the type though.

Then again, most people aren’t what they seem.

“It’s your idea because you’re trying to set me up with him.”

Peter blanches. “But dad—”

“Peter Benjamin Parker-_Stark_,—”

“Dad—”

“—just because you managed to set your aunt up with Happy,—” 

“Dad—”

“—god knows how that even worked—”

“But dad—”

“_And_ just because you’re too busy following MJ around like a lost puppy—”

“No, I don’t!”

“—doesn’t mean you’re qualified to set me up with anyone. We’ve been through this.”

“But—”

“I told you to stop trying to matchmake me with every available person you meet.”

“But dad,” Peter whines. “You and Steve would be perfect together. He’s totally your type.”

Tony resists the urge to slap his forehead.

Technically, it’s Tony’s fault. If Peter hadn’t found him drunk one faithful night several months ago, moping about how lonely he is, his son wouldn’t have made it his personal mission to find him a partner. And since Peter’s just a teenager, he tries to set him up with people like his Chemistry teacher, Tony’s ex-assistant, and Rhodey’s friend from the Air-Force. Hell, even the neurosurgeon Peter spilled coffee over several months back.

Speaking of the neurosurgeon…

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Remember the last person you tried to set me up with? You thought he was perfect too.”

Peter clicks his tongue. “Okay, I may have miscalculated that.”

His other eyebrow arches. “Miscalculated?”

“Okay, I was off the mark.”

“Yes, you were.”

“In my defence,” Peter says, crossing his arms as he leans against his seat, “Strange seemed pretty smart. I mean, you have a thing for smart people.”

“He was smart,” Tony admits, “but a major dick.”

“Total dick,” Peter agrees. “But I swear, Steve isn’t like that. He’s really sweet and—”

“He’s half my age,” Tony replies dryly.

“It’s a fifteen year gap.”

Tony throws his hands in surrender. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”

“Hey, fifteen is better than twenty-three.”

Tony sighs heavily, rubbing his temples. “Look, I get that you’re worried about me—”

“Yeah, but—”

“I’m fine.”

“You’re lonely.”

“I’m not lonely. I was drunk that night, remember? I have you. And Pepper and Rhodey and Happy. And hell, you can throw in JARVIS and Dum-E and—”

“_Dad_.”

“I’m fine. Don’t worry about me. I have you. And that’s all I need.” Tony softens. “Okay?”

Peter’s shoulders slump in apparent defeat. “Okay. But you’ll tell me if…”

“Mm hmm. Sure.”

Judging by Peter’s expression, he doesn’t believe him for a second.

The rest of dinner goes without a hitch. Steve seems to have put the awkward meeting behind him and takes their orders down with much cheer, pinning Tony with those searing blue eyes. Seriously, who the fuck has blue eyes like that? Only a demon, that’s who.

Peter’s right about one thing. The food here is to die for. The cheeseburger is juicy and the fries are perfectly salted coffee doesn’t taste like wet cardboard and don’t get him started on the pie, Jesus fuck. All and all, not a bad end to Tony’s disaster of the evening.

Tony figures that’ll be the end to the whole fiasco. But then, it’s time to pay.

Steve frowns at the bills in Tony’s hand. “Mr Stark—”

“Tony, please. Mr Stark’s my old man.”

“Tony,” Steve amends. He gestures to the money. “I can’t take this. This is too much.”

“No, it’s not. You should see how much I tip the pizza guy.”

Peter lights up at that. “Oh yeah. Last month, dad— Mmph!”

Steve’s lips curl upwards as Tony clamps a hand over Peter’s own mouth.

“Okay, blabbermouth, Steve doesn’t need to know that.”

“Mmph! Mm mmph mm—”

Steve laughs. “It’s fine. You can always tell me on Monday.”

Tony lets out a mock gasp. “I thought this was a classy establishment. And here I am finding out—”

“Mmph—”

“Peter,—”

“—mm—”

“—are you talking about me behind—”

“—mmph mm—”

“—my back because— Ah!”

Peter burst into laughter as Tony yanks his slobbered hand away. “You are disgusting.” He wipes his hand on Peter’s T-shirt.

“Ew! Dad!”

“It’s your saliva, not mine.” Tony stills, suddenly remembering that there’s a wonderful blue-eyed hunk watching them with the brightest and softest smile he’s ever seen. Jesus Christ. “Uh…”

“Hey, I’m not judging. I’d do that too if I were you.”

Peter pulls a face. “You guys have more in common than I thought.”

Tony’s cheeks start to burn. Steve just shakes his head, his smile still plastered on his lips.

It’s that smile and of course those blue eyes that haunt Tony all the way home. He supposes it’s a given, since Steve’s, well, Steve. Not that he knows the man but he smiles way too often for a guy working a waiter job.

But that should be the end of it. Steve’s just some waiter at a diner in a different borough. Tony has no reason for travelling all the way there to the diner, let alone seeing him again, no matter how amazing the food is or the knowing looks Peter keeps shooting him.

But of course, Peter wouldn’t be his son for a reason.

* * *

_Peter: Dad._

_Peter: Dad._

_Peter: Dad, dad, dad, dad._

_Tony: What?_

_Tony: Stop spamming me. I’m in a meeting right now._

_Tony: Pepper’s giving me the stink eye._

_Peter: Whoops._

_Peter: Eh. Just tell her you’re texting me. She’ll let it slide._

_Peter: I’m her favourite godson, after all._

_Tony: You’re her only godson._

_Peter: Whatever._

_Peter: I’m craving waffles._

_Tony: It’s four in the afternoon???_

_Peter: You drink coffee at one in the morning._

_Tony: I have work to do._

_Tony: Try again._

_Peter: Um…_

_Peter: What about the time you ate all of the ice-cream at three in the morning?_

_Peter: From the carton???_

_Tony: Touché._

_Tony: Alright, kid. I’m done around five. Waffle House?_

_Peter: What about Cap’s?_

_Tony: …_

_Peter: :D_

_Tony: -_-_

_Tony: Are you serious?_

_Peter: Pleaseeeeeeeeee????_

_Peter: I’ll do the dishes._

_Peter: For the whole week._

_Tony: …_

_Tony: Two and you got yourself a deal._

_Tony: You’re lucky you’re my kid._

_Peter: :DDDDDDD_

_Tony: Youosaildfhlkdsaldf_

_Peter: ???_

_Peter: Dad???_

_Peter: Do I have to call the cops or something???_

_Peter: Dad?!?!?!?!?!?_

_Peter: Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god._

_Peter: Please don’t tell me you got kidnapped, oh fuck._

_Peter: Dad????????????????????????????????????????_

_Tony: Hey, hey. I’m okay._

_Tony: I’m so sorry. Pepper just called me out._

_Peter: How do I know you’re my dad and not an imposter?_

_Peter: Tell me something that my dad only knows. No one else but him._

_Tony: You burned down our kitchen when you were eleven because you were trying to make a cake for my birthday._

_Peter: Oh my god, I did do that._

_Tony: Mm hmm._

_Peter: So… Pepper called you out, huh?_

_Peter: RIP man._

_Tony: …_

_Tony: You’re really lucky you’re my kid._

_Peter: :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

* * *

Steve is all smiles when Tony and Peter walks into the diner. Tony wonders if he even has any grumpy bone in his body.

“Back so soon?”

“Yup,” Peter replies. “Dad loved your pecan pie. Couldn’t wait to come back here and eat them again.”

Tony would’ve reprimanded him for throwing him under the bus for the sake of ‘true love’ but there’s a sentence that he’s stuck on.

“Wait, _you_ baked the pie?”

Immediately, Tony wants to take back those words. Hopefully, Steve wouldn’t take it as an insult because well, he’s a waiter, right? Why would some random waiter bake the pies at the diner he works at.

Steve crosses his arms across his chest, looking suddenly wary. “Uh, yeah. I bake all the pies here.”

Okay, so maybe he isn’t as happy-go-lucky as Tony thought he is.

“I didn’t mean it in a bad way. I just thought that it’s kinda weird that you’d…bake.”

Steve blinks, his arms falling away. “How is it weird that the owner of a diner would bake for the diner he owns?”

Tony does a double-take. “Wait, you’re the _owner_?”

Steve rubs the back of the neck, sheepish. “Technically co-owner. But yeah, I am.”

“Wow.”

“Is that so hard to believe?”

“No,” Tony quickly says, “I just… Wow. Just wanna say that the pecan pie yesterday? The best one I ever had. It was amazing. Orgasm-inducing.”

Steve turns a beautiful shade of red. How could anyone look adorable blushing befuddles him. “Well gosh, Mr Stark—”

“Tony.”

“_Tony_,” Steve amends, standing straighter. He holds out a hand. “I’m Steve.”

“Tony,” he answers, meeting him half-way. Steve’s palm is warm and solid in his grasp.

Steve’s lips twitches. “You mentioned.”

Tony snorts. “You know me, ever the narcissist.”

“I doubt that,” Steve answers in such an earnest tone that has Tony internally recoiling. No one besides his closest friends or Peter would correct him in such a way. It’s so…weird.

Tony tears his gaze away, landing on his son instead. Peter’s grinning, his eyes sparkling as his gaze darts between the two of them.

“So, are we gonna order or…?”

That’s when he realizes that Steve and him are still holding hands.

* * *

It soon turns into a regular thing – Peter craving some form of comfort food, him dragging Tony all the way to Brooklyn for said comfort food, and Tony dying on the inside every time Steve flashes those baby blue eyes and dimpled cheeks his way.

Maybe if he’s twenty years younger and less jaded, he would’ve gone for it. Make some stupid risky pass that might have him either decked or pinned against the side of the building. Settling for a one-night stand.

But Tony’s old and tired and Steve’s young and handsome and pure and everything that Tony is not worthy to have so he clamps his mouth shut and ignores his son’s knowing exasperated looks.

He brings it up one Friday night as he drives them both home.

God, the boy is relentless. Tony wonders where that relentless comes from. Definitely not him.

“Why’re you so adamant on the both of us? Usually, you would've given up by now and moved on to getting me to date one of your friends’ mum or something.”

“Because you guys are perfect for each other?” Tony snorts. “I’m serious. You guys have great chemistry.”

“I barely know the guy.”

Peter shrugs. “You can always ask him out. Get to know him better.”

“You know that’s a terrible idea. For all you know, he could be straight.”

“But what if he isn’t?”

Tony ignores that because well, he doesn’t want to hope.

* * *

The good thing about his visits to Steve’s diner is that Peter’s always there with him. The father in Tony helps rein him in by not doing anything stupid like trying to unsuccessfully flirt or even worse, jump Steve right there and then.

But of course eventually, _this_ would happen.

He should’ve seen it coming. Some futurist he is.

Because his coffee beans have all mysteriously disappeared. Tony swears he bought a fresh bag of it a couple of days ago.

“JARVIS?”

“My sensors do not detect your coffee beans, sir.”

“Run the scan again.”

“Sir, this is the seventh time you asked me. I assure you they are not in the penthouse.”

“Fuck,” Tony mutters.

He could always run down to the nearest convenience store to restock. But then a pair of brilliant blue eyes fill his head and oh god.

Tony sighs heavily as he rubs his temples. He shouldn’t consider this. Hell, why is he even considering this?

“JARVIS?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Would it be a bad idea for me to drive all the way to Brooklyn just for coffee?”

“Why would you think so, sir?”

“Because I could just drop by any other diner in Manhattan for coffee. Even if _Cap’s_ coffee is the best. And hell, I could just run off and buy another bag.”

“That is true.” JARVIS pauses. “Unless you have other motives for your visit to Brooklyn.”

Tony’s eyes narrow. “What’s that supposed to mean? No, wait. Peter mentioned Steve to you, didn’t he?”

And again like all of Peter’s schemes, it all comes to light.

“That name was uttered by the young master’s mouth, yes,” JARVIS admits.

Great. Now his own AI thinks he’s head over heels for some diner owner from Brooklyn. All thanks to his meddling and scheming son.

“But I don’t even like him like that!”

“I did not say you do, sir.”

“Don’t get sassy with me, JAR.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sir.”

Tony sighs, pinching his nose. He really, _really_ needs coffee for this.

“If Peter asks where I am, tell him I’m at _Cap’s_.” He pauses. “I won’t be gone long because I’m only going there for the coffee and only for the coffee.”

“I never thought otherwise,” JARVIS replies mildly.

* * *

When Tony arrives, the place is deserted, save for a group of college-aged kids seated at the back, mugs and books strewn over the table.

And of course, Steve fucking Rogers because Tony has the best luck.

He’s in the middle of chatting with a raven-haired man who appears to have ingested way too much caffeine. Then again, who’s Tony to judge? This is probably what he looks like to people when he’s high on it.

Steve tears his gaze away from the man, his smile broadening at the sight of Tony. “Hey.”

At the same time, Steve’s co-worker’s eyes widen, his jaw dropping. “Holy shit, you’re Tony—!”

“Just Tony,” he interrupts as he slides onto the stool opposite them, tilting his cap downwards. “And let’s pretend I’m not here. I’m going incognito. Tonight, I'm just a regular guy out on the hunt for a good brew.”

The man nods. “Yes, Mr Stark, sir. I mean, Tony. Anthony? You know, I used to have an ant named Ant—”

“Scott.”

“Sorry, Cap,” Scott says cheerfully, unaffected by the reprimand. He claps Steve on the shoulder as he shuffles away. “Anyway, you guys have fun. I’ll just be over there. Earphones in. Not eavesdropping on you two flirting—”

“_Scott_.”

“Bucky said it, not me!”

Steve huffs, shaking his head. “Sorry about Scott,” he tells Tony. “He’s a great guy but he can be a little overenthusiastic sometimes.”

Tony chuckles. “It’s fine. I’ve had a lot of experience with overenthusiasm. He kinda reminds me of Peter.”

Steve breaks into a small smile. “I can see the resemblance. Anyway, you’re up late.”

“Could say the same to you.”

Steve grins ruefully. “Switched shifts with a friend for the next couple of weeks. What’s your excuse?”

“Couldn’t sleep,” Tony confesses. “Went to the kitchen to make some coffee, only to find out that I don’t have any coffee.”

Steve makes a face at that. “I hate it when that happens. But shouldn’t you—?”

“Shouldn’t I not be drinking coffee at three am?” Tony finishes. “Please. I work best at this time of the night. Which is why I’m here.”

“To refuel? You could’ve just run down to the nearest store and grab a bag of coffee beans.”

“True,” Tony says without thinking. “But I wouldn’t be able to see you.”

A light blush blooms over Steve’s cheeks. He ducks his head, rubbing the back of his head. A sense of glee courses through Tony. Maybe he’s not off his game.

“Peter mentioned you drink too much coffee.”

Tony clicks his tongue. “Well, Peter needs to stop ratting me out.”

Steve laughs as he shuffles away, returning several seconds later with a mug in one hand, a pot of coffee in another.

The rational part of his brain is screaming at him to tell Steve to pour his coffee out in a takeaway cup, drive home, and then return to his project. But stupider part of him wins so he opens his mouth to say something else instead.

“Does Peter talk a lot about me?” Tony asks as Steve pours. “Because judging by the stuff you guys say, it seems like it.”

“He talks about you all the time. All good things. I promise.”

Knowing Peter and his weird schemes, he probably talked him up to entice Steve to give him a chance. Which will fail because Steve will never, ever be interested in dating him.

“And embarrassing,” Tony adds before taking a long sip from his coffee. Immediately, he feels energized because goddamn, this stuff is good.

“Well, I don’t know about that,” Steve says. “I like hearing about the time you accidentally set your lab on fire or the time you went to one of your board meetings in your boxers because you haven’t slept in forty hours.”

Okay, that’s worse. Much, much worse. This is why Peter’s strength lies in science, not…love. Who in their right mind would be attracted to him when they hear things like that?

Tony groans, lightly tapping his head on the counter. “Someone kill me.”

“It’s adorable.”

“No, it’s not!” Tony exclaims, lifting his head upwards to meet Steve’s amused grin. “It’s embarrassing. I mean, I know it’s funny to hear about Tony Stark acting like an idiot—”

“I don’t think you’re an idiot,” Steve cuts in. “I like hearing how human you are.”

Tony frowns. “Human?”

Steve glances away, gaze glued to the floor. “I mean, the press likes to make people like you so…”

“Perfect?”

“Something like that.”

Tony scoffs. “Please, the press enjoys vilifying the fuck out of me.”

“They’re wrong.”

“Not all of them,” Tony admits. “But most of them are horseshit.”

Silence settles between them. Tony lifts his mug to his lips again as he scans the room. The group of college kids is still transfixed on their books. Scott sits at the cash register, earphones plugged in as he snickers at his phone screen.

Tony expects Steve to excuse himself and return to his co-worker. Instead, Steve ducks to retrieve a worn Moleskine and a pen. He flips through a couple of pages. They’re detailed with sketches of flowers and faces Tony doesn’t recognize. They’re absolutely gorgeous.

“You draw?”

Steve nods. “I went to art school.”

“You mind if I…”

For a moment, Steve stills but he ends up pushing the book over to Tony.

There are pages and pages of Steve’s amazing sketches, all inked in black. More people Tony doesn’t know, a dog and cat curled up together, Peter and his friends in a booth laughing together and—

Him. There’s him.

Drawing-Tony smirks back at him, his eyes peering at him through his sunglasses. It’s a common look Tony has on in casual photoshoots and press photos. But Drawing-Tony’s smirk is different than those. It’s the kind he has on when Peter takes a photo of him and Rhodey or the one Tony pins Pepper with when she’s fussing with his clothes in front of a mirror. It’s the kind he only shows to people he’s close to.

It’s warm and genuine and how the hell did some random diner owner manage to capture that on paper? Did Tony smile at him in such a way before?

“Holy shit. Holy fucking shit. This is amazing.” Tony lifts his head upwards. “You’re amazing.”

Steve smiles shyly at him, his cheeks colouring. “Thank you.”

“Like seriously, this is fucking amazing. I didn’t... I’ve never seen anyone draw me that way. Like I could feel the warmth bursting through the pages and—” Tony frowns. “Is that a weird thing to say? I feel like there’s a weird thing to say.”

“I’ve heard weirder ways to describe art.”

“Well, regardless. You’re amazing. Like fucking amazing. It probably doesn’t mean much coming from me since I don’t know a single thing about art.”

“Not at all. It actually means a lot.”

Tony raises an eyebrow. “Because I’m Tony Stark?”

“Not because of that,” Steve replies. “No offense but people who aren’t familiar with art don’t really appreciate it. Art doesn’t move them. So to have my art move you, someone who isn’t familiar with art is well, quite an accomplishment.”

Tony grins. “Well, I do aim to flatter.”

They spend the next several hours talking about everything and anything. Tony tells him about his latest projects, his favourite bands, and Peter.

(“I knew his parents. They used to work for me before they died. Peter’s uncle and aunt were in a tight spot financially at the time. They were almost going to give him up to social services.”

“And then you stepped in.”

“Yeah. I don’t know why I did that. I didn’t know the first thing about parenthood. But I have no regrets. Peter’s the best thing that’s ever happened to me.”)

In response, Steve regales him with a long tale of how he came to co-own a diner.

(“Ma always like diners. Always dreamt of having one. Felt right to open one after being discharged.”

“Was it Bucky and Sam’s dream to open one too?”

“No, but they thought it’d be fun to open one together. We did everything together, grow up, enter the military. The three of us ended up being promoted to Captain too. Opening this place is just one more thing for us to do together.”

“I take that’s why the place’s called _Cap’s Diner_. Cap as in Captain, right?”

“Yeah. …I wish she’d live to see it. Sometimes I wonder if she even likes the place.”

“I think she would’ve loved the place.”

“You think so?”

“I know so.”)

And before Tony knows it, it’s six in the morning and people are starting to pour in. Steve disappears to help Scott take their orders down.

“I should go,” Tony says when Steve returns his way. “I promised Peter I’d help him with his Chemistry project.”

There’s a flash of disappointment crossing Steve’s expression but it’s gone in a second. “Are you sure you can make the trip back? I mean, you didn’t even get any sleep.” Steve’s eyes widen. “God, I kept you up all night and you haven’t slept. Shit, I’m so sorry. I can give you a lift back.”

The thought of sharing a small space with Steve makes Tony’s stomach churn in a pleasant and not pleasant way. Tony doesn’t want to find out why.

“It’s fine. I burn the midnight oil way too often. Kinda immune to feeling sleepy, honestly. Caffeine makes up like half of my bloodstream.” As if on cue, a yawn tumbles out of his lips.

Steve smirks, shouldering a rag. “Immune, huh?”

“Shut up,” Tony says half-heartedly. Well, maybe three-quarterly. Steve has been wonderful company. It’s been a while since he’s found someone as engaging as him.

Neither of them speaks for a moment.

“Here,” Tony says, slapping a hundred dollar bill on the counter. “And before you start being all righteous again, which by the way shut up, I’m not gonna change, just take it. If it makes you feel better, you can tell yourself that this is payment for keeping an old man company.”

“You’re not old,” Steve grins. “Besides, you don’t have to pay me to talk to you.”

Tony’s breath hitches.

* * *

“Hey, dad.”

Tony whirls around, slamming into the wall behind him and almost dropping his paper bag in fright. “Jesus Christ! Are you _trying _to give me a heart attack?”

Peter doesn’t look one bit apologetic as he jumps off from the breakfast bar, which Tony specifically told him a bazillion times that he should not sit on it, for fuck’s sake. His hair is a mess and he’s still dressed in an oversized T-shirt and sweatpants.

“I woke up like five minutes ago and went down to the workshop check on you but you weren’t there so I asked JARVIS where you went and he said you went out and I asked to where and he said that you said that you wanted to go to _Cap’s_ but you said you’d been gone for a while but you’ve been gone for—”

Tony groans. “Peter. No.”

“Was he there?”

“I’m not answering that.”

Peter grins knowingly, bouncing on the balls of his feet, hands splayed. “He was, wasn’t he?”

“As I said,” Tony says, striding past him, “I’m not answering that.”

“I knew it!” Peter declares gleefully. “Did you finally ask him out?”

“No, I didn’t because there’s no reason to.”

“But you like him!”

“No, I don’t.”

“Why else would you drive all the way out to Brooklyn at three in the morning?”

“Because coffee at _Cap’s_ isn’t shit?”

“Uh huh. Sure.”

Tony rolls his eyes. “Okay. Believe whatever you want. I can eat all of this strawberry pie by myself anyway.”

After that, Steve and his blue eyes are forgotten for the moment because Peter’s here and there’s who Tony needs right now.

* * *

Tony comes back the next night and the night after that and before he knows it, it’s a regular thing. He knows it’s not ideal. It’s already bad enough his sleep schedule is fucked and he has projects to complete and of course, being a dad.

But Steve’s charming and sarcastic and hilarious and keeps Tony on his toes. Every time they meet, there’s an array of things to talk about, from discussing their favourite pie flavours to regaling one another about their childhood misadventures to debating what is the best Coldplay album.

Just watching Steve animatedly act out an incident involving a lake, ten bottles of Pepsi, and an umbrella is worth all the lectures Pepper gives him when he falls asleep during meetings. The anticipation of hearing Steve’s voice and laugh is worth shrugging on a jacket and driving all the way to Brooklyn in the middle of the night.

And of course, it hits him when he’s watching Steve’s laughing at full-force, his dazzling blue eyes twinkling under the dim ceiling lights.

* * *

_Tony: Fine._

_Tony: I think I might._

_Tony: Just might._

_Tony: Have a teensy-weensy crush._

_Peter: ;)_

_Peter: Is it who I think it is?_

_Tony: Unfortunately, yes._

_Tony: You happy now?_

_Peter: :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

_Tony: You’re terrible._

_Peter: Just want you to be happy, is all._

_Tony: …_

_Peter: :DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD_

_Tony: Tell any of your friends and you’re grounded for a year._

_Peter: Yes, sir._

_Peter: ;)_

_Tony: Also, it’s four in the morning, right now. Why are you still awake?_

_Tony: Peter?_

_Tony: Pete???_

* * *

“Okay, so I have a surprise for you.”

Tony raises an eyebrow, scanning the room for anything out of the ordinary. There’s no one else left inside the diner, saved for a man at the back singing 'YMCA' off-key at the top of his lungs along to the jukebox. Scott’s in the kitchen, probably yammering with the cooks. Besides that, nothing else seems to be out of the ordinary.

Steve huffs out a laugh. “Don’t worry. I don’t have some clown hiding in the back or anything like that.”

Instead, his surprise comes in a form of a pie. And not just any pie. It’s—

“Blueberry? I thought you hate that stuff.” Hell, they even had a twenty minute debate on it.

“I do,” Steve admits. “But Sam’s been bugging me to bake a new pie flavour and I remembered you mentioning how much you like blueberries so I thought, ‘why not’?”

Tony watches Steve’s cheeks colour with fascination and confusion. Why should he be embarrassed? He’s just asking for his opinion.

“I’m no professional pie taster,” Tony says, picking his fork up. “And I might be a bit bias since I love everything you put out.”

Steve lets out a breathy laugh. “You might never know. This could be my first blunder.”

And of course, Steve’s way off-course because this pie is fucking amazing. Because the blueberries are perfectly sweet and not overpowering and the crust is flaky and warm and fuck, if he could marry this pie, he would. He definitely would.

Tony opens his mouth to tell him so when another voice beats him to the punch. 

“Hey, lovebirds!”

It’s the singing man, who’s no longer singing, making his way towards them. His face is heavily marred with scars but it’s the knowing grin he has on that unsettles Tony. He slaps a five-dollar bill on the countertop before gesturing to the jukebox behind him. “I put like a quarter in that thing. You guys should just, I don’t know, pick a song and make out to ‘Can’t Help Falling In Love’ or something romantic.”

Tony’s cheeks burn.

“Seriously, please put us all out of our miseries. Like I’m cool with you guys eye-fucking each other every second of the day. And I’m really, really cool with exhibitionists and no, don’t deny it. You guys are exhibitionists. But watching you guys pretend you guys are not into one another is very, very painful so please just make out already, Jesus Christ.” He gives each of them a mock salute in turn. “Anyway, have fun guys!”

The man disappears into the night, the chimes tinkling as the door shuts behind him.

“Well,” Tony says, not knowing what to say to that because _who the fuck was he and what the fuck was he blabbering about?_

“Yeah.”

“He was spouting some bullshit, huh?”

“Uh huh.”

A pause.

“Wanna dance?”

Steve whips his head upwards, his expression mirroring the shock Tony feels. “What?”

Tony swallows. Him and his stupid, _stupid_ mouth.

“Never mind. Forget I said anything.”

God, he should go. Why was he here, at three-something in the morning hanging out with a guy who’s not uninterested and who’s way too young and way too good for—?

“I’m a terrible dancer.”

There’s a shy smile on Steve’s lips, the same one he flashed Tony when he complimented him on his drawing skills all so long ago. It makes Tony’s heart thump against his ribcage.

“You can’t be that bad,” Tony replies, surprised at how controlled he sounds to his ears.

Steve barks out a laugh. “Tell that to my friends.”

“Okay, fine. Then, we can just listen to a song. On the house, apparently.”

There’s a ton of songs, all ranging from the forties to the seventies. Tony rifles through them. Most of them are jazz and pop songs. None of them are AC/DC or Black Sabbath, unfortunately.

“Any recommendations?” Tony calls.

“Your choice!” Steve hollers back.

Tony backtracks before pausing on a song. He presses the play button.

Steve’s watching him, bug-eyed, as he makes his way back to his seat. “Never pegged you for a Nat King Cole fan.”

Tony shrugs in response as the music filters through the speakers. “My mum loved Nat King Cole.”

“Mine too.”

They lapse into a comfortable silence, Nat King Cole crooning over their heads. But then unexplainable tension seems to seep into the silence and Tony’s starting to feel uncomfortable. He shoves small portions of pie into his mouth as a distraction.

God, why did he pick this song?

“Tony.”

“Yeah?” he asks, lifting his head and fuck, has Steve’s eyes been this blue and hell, have they always been standing this close to one another?

“Tony,” Steve repeats, his gaze roaming over Tony’s face before settling on his lips.

And suddenly, Tony can’t breathe.

Steve hasn’t taken his eyes off his mouth, gnawing at the bottom of his own lip, as if he’s contemplating something.

And like the magnet he is, Tony finds himself gravitating towards him and he swears Steve is too and Steve smells like coffee and pie and sweat and something explicitly Steve and fuck, Tony’s sure that Steve’s eyes are darker than—

“Hey, are you—? Oh shit. Sorry, guys!”

Scott disappears where he comes from, leaving Steve and Tony alone, their lips inches from one another. And just like that, the spell is broken.

“The pie.”

Steve blinks before glancing to the side. “The pie?” he asks hoarsely.

Tony nods stiffly. “It’s fucking amazing.”

The song winds to a close. Neither of them could at one another in the eye.

* * *

Fortunately for him, Tony’s a master at deflection, easily steering them back to safer waters and eventually, he has Steve in stitches and he heads home with a box of blueberry pie when the sun begins to rise. Just like always. Just like nothing weird ever happened between them.

Peter’s eyes widen when Tony whips the pie out. “Blueberry? Steve baked a _blueberry_ pie?”

Tony squints at him. “Yeah? What’s so weird about that? Blueberry pies are an American staple.”

“Steve hates blueberries.”

“Ugh, don’t remind me. We had like a twenty minute debate on whether blueberries or strawberries are the superior berry and— Are you implying what I think you’re implying?”

Peter just grins, arms crossed on the kitchen island.

Tony loves his kid. He really, really does. But sometimes, well…

“No.”

“Seriously, the first time I visited the diner, I asked him if he has any blueberry pie.” Peter shakes his head fondly. “I’ve never seen him looked so offended.”

“That doesn’t mean he baked one because of me,” Tony counters, turning away to brew themselves coffee. “For all you know, he likes blueberries now.”

“Uh huh.”

Tony sighs. Figures that his son would never let it go. Which is why he’ll never tell him that he almost kissed him to Nat King Cole. No sirree. Never, ever—

“Wait, you guys almost _kissed_?”

Goddamn his mouth. And brain. Goddamn them both.

* * *

Steve is nowhere in sight when Tony strides in the next night.

The only people in the diner are an elderly couple at the back, Scott who’s flipping through a comic book in a corner with earphones plugged into his ears, and a dark-haired man wiping down the counter. Tony has never seen him around before. But judging by the prosthetic arm he has on and Steve’s description of the man, Tony guesses he’s Bucky Barnes.

Is Steve avoiding him? Did Steve finally realize that Tony’s nursing a crush on him? Has he decided that hanging around Tony Stark is a terrible decision?

Well, it’s only a matter of time it would’ve happened. He should’ve seen this coming. He really does suck as a futurist.

Then again, Steve did mention that he’s been filling in for a friend this past couple of weeks. He’s probably reverted back to his regular shift.

“Where’s Steve?” Tony blurts out as soon as he settles onto the stool opposite Bucky.

Bucky pauses, regarding Tony with a confused look. “Steve? Why’re—?” He cuts himself off, his eyes squinting in apparent distaste. “Oh. You’re him, aren’t you?”

Tony frowns. He knows that look far too well. “You have a problem with me, Terminator?”

Bucky ignores Tony’s question, choosing to mutter to himself. “Of course. Of all the people he had to go for.”

“Hey.”

“I’ve got nothing against you, Stark,” Bucky drawls, his Brooklyn accent more pronounced. He pours a mug of coffee out for Tony, sliding it his way. “Just that my so-called best friend forgot to mention that he’s mooning over Tony fucking Stark.”

Tony’s heart leaps at the last part. But according to Steve, he should take Bucky’s words with a grain of salt sometimes.

“Steve mentioned me to you?”

“And much, much more.”

“He told you how devastatingly handsome I am?” Tony asks teasingly.

“Among other things,” Bucky says dryly. Tony almost chokes on his coffee. “Say, what’re your intentions are with Steve?”

Tony scoffs as he sets his mug down. “My intentions? What era are we living in, the 1600s?”

Bucky huffs, giving him a once-over. “I can see why Steve likes you.”

For the third time tonight, Tony doesn’t know what to make of Bucky’s words. The way he talks about Steve sounds like Steve might, just might be interested in Tony. Which doesn’t make sense because well, Tony’s Tony and Steve could do much, much better than him and—

“He works only on weekdays. The second shift.”

Tony blinks, snapping out of his reverie. “What?”

Bucky glares at him, exasperated. “Five pm to one am. But he’s doing the first shift on Wednesday if you wanna stop by then. That’s nine am to five pm, by the way.”

No one speaks for a long moment – Bucky tapping his fingers impatiently on the countertop and Tony’s brain slowly shutting down.

“Um.”

Bucky exhales heavily. “God, I wish I was paid to deal with this.”

* * *

Tony doesn’t stick around that night, inhaling his coffee in a long gulp and dashing out of the building.

Because Steve might be interested in Tony. Emphasis on the might.

For all Tony knows, Bucky is a big fat liar who holds some grudge on him and is eager to watch Tony make a fool out of himself. He wouldn’t be surprised. Bucky seems like the type.

But then he remembers Steve’s kind words and blueberry pie and Nat King Cole and well, maybe, just _maybe_.

Besides if Steve does end up turning him down, Tony would be okay. He’s been on the end of countless rejections throughout his lifetime. He can handle another one. He’s a Stark, after all.

So on a Wednesday in his best suit and head held high, Tony steps inside.

* * *

_Tony: He has a girlfriend._

_Peter: ???_

_Peter: Who???_

_Peter: If this is about Uncle Rhodey, then yeah. I know he’s been dating Carol for two months._

_Tony: Wait, what????????_

_Tony: He IS???_

_Tony: I’ve been hounding him about Carol since forever and he never told me this???_

_Tony: That lying traitor._

_Tony: I’m definitely going to text his ass later._

_Peter: Whoops._

_Peter: Please don’t tell him I said that. He’ll sic Carol on me._

_Tony: Secret’s safe with me._

_Tony: Also, not talking ‘bout him._

_Tony: Talking ‘bout Steve._

_Tony: I told you he’s straight._

_Peter: You do know that Steve can be bi or pan, right?_

_Tony: I’m pan myself so I am aware of the possibility, yes._

_Tony: But whatever, doesn’t matter._

_Tony: He has a girlfriend. End of story._

_Peter: ?????????????????????????????????????????????????????_

_Peter: Are you sure???_

_Tony: Positive._

_Tony: Went to the diner just now and saw a woman pecking his cheek._

_Peter: Could've been a friendly kiss._

_Tony: Doubt it._

_Tony: You should’ve seen the way he was looking at her._

_Peter: Are you sure?_

_Tony: What? You doubt your old man?_

_Peter: Let’s just say you tend to jump to conclusions._

_Tony: I do not!_

_Peter: For all you know, she could be his sister._

_Tony: But the way he was looking at her though?_

_Peter: What did she look like?_

_Tony:_ _White. Blonde. Pretty._

_Tony: Didn’t really stick around to get a good look at her._

_Peter: Well, she could’ve been his sister._

_Tony: He told me he’s an only kid._

_Peter: Okay, maybe his cousin???_

_Tony: You do know that he could be into blondes._

_Tony: And why am I even telling you this?_

_Tony: And also, don’t you have class right now??? _

_Peter: Because I’m your son? Who else are you gonna tell?_

_Peter: Also, it’s lunch._

_Tony: Rhodey. Pepper. Happy. Maybe Carol. Definitely anyone that isn’t sixteen and not my son._

_Peter: Hardy ha._

_Peter: They’ll be harder on you though._

_Peter: Much, much harder on you._

_Peter: You’ll never hear the end of it._

_Tony: True._

_Tony: Plus, I haven’t told them about Steve._

_Peter: ;))))))))_

_Tony: Peter, NO!_

* * *

Fortunately, neither of his legal-aged friends call him up to tease him about his terrible one-sided crush on some Brooklyn guy. But if there’s any indication of them being aware of said crush, no one comments on it.

Peter, however, is a different story.

“C’mon, dad!” his son whines as they turn into the cereal aisle. “You know you can’t avoid Steve forever.”

Usually, Tony would have JARVIS order everything online. But Tony needs something to distract his mind from thinking of a certain unavailable blonde so here he is, in a freaking grocery store of his son’s choosing with said son yapping at him about his sad and non-existent love life.

“Uh, yes I can,” Tony says as he pushes the shopping cart. “We live in different boroughs. Pretty easy to miss him, you know.”

“_Dad_,” Peter says insistently, “you’ve been moping for the past two weeks.”

Tony pauses, turning his scowl on his son. “I was not!”

“You locked yourself in the workshop,” Peter points out.

“That’s normal behaviour from me,” Tony counters. You know how busy I get.”

“You were blasting ‘You Belong With Me’ on loop.”

“I was in a Taylor Swift mood.” Tony frowns. “And if you’re getting the _Lucky Charms_ just for the marshmallows, you should just get a bag of marshmallows then.”

Peter cocks an eyebrow as he places the box of cereal back on the shelf. “You hate Taylor Swift.”

“You know, I’m starting to regret inviting you out.”

Peter shrugs his shoulders, reaching for a box of _Frosted Flakes_. “Well, only one way to find out.”

Tony frowns. “What’re you—?”

“Hey, Steve!” Peter calls, holding out a hand as he cranes his neck over Tony’s shoulders.

Tony whirls around and there he is, in all of his All-American glory. And fuck, he’s wearing a long-sleeved Henley that’s a couple sizes too tight and they’re in a grocery store and Steve’s taken and oh god.

Someone really is out to get him. That someone being his son because this is too much of a coincidence.

Steve waves at them from the other end of the aisle before pushing his shopping cart over.

“What’re you doing?” Tony hisses.

“Doing you a favour.”

“You—”

“Hey, guys,” Steve says, cutting off Tony’s retort. “Fancy seeing you two here.”

God, is he glad he’s wearing his sunglasses today. At least Steve won’t be able to see the panic behind his eyes.

Peter beams. “Right? Usually, we get JARVIS to buy the groceries but dad thought he’d get some fresh air so I told him we should come here since you said the fruits here are always fresh.”

“JARVIS?”

“He’s our AI,” Peter explains proudly. “He’s amazing. Dad made him all by himself.”

Steve turns his gaze to Tony, his face written with blatant awe. “Wow.”

Tony lets out a weak laugh. “Well, you know. Genius.”

“You should come by and meet him,” Peter says and what the fuck is he up to?

Before Tony could reprimand him, Steve answers, “Maybe. If your dad doesn’t mind.” His lips twist into that classic smile that has Tony’s insides melting. “Hi, Tony.”

Tony couldn’t help but mirror his smile. “Hey.”

“Been a while since you’ve been by. I missed seeing you around.”

Tony tries not to dwell on that because the last thing he needs is to read into things, especially since Steve’s very much unavailable. “Yeah. It’s been pretty busy at SI. You know how it is. You know, with work.”

Steve frowns. If he sees through Tony’s lie, he doesn’t point it out. “Yeah. I get it. Work and all.”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

An awkward silence settles between them. Steve’s studying him with a curious gaze and Peter’s looking at him expectantly and someone, please—

“Hey, Steve? Are you single?”

Tony snaps his head forward in lightning speed.

Steve smiles wryly at Peter. “Hate to break it to you, Pete, but I think I’m way too old for you.”

“Oh, no. I’m asking on behalf of a friend,” Peter answers with another all-too knowing look at Tony. It takes all of his willpower to not hightail out of the building.

“I’m still too old for your friends.”

“Not this friend,” Peter says cheerfully. “You like guys too, right?”

Tony’s eyes widen. “Peter Benjamin!”

“What?” Peter asks innocently. “I’m just asking. For a friend.”

“It’s fine,” Steve says dismissively. He looks way too amused for someone who’s being pelted with invasive questions. “I’m bi. And single.”

Tony starts at that, almost kicking his son in the shin.

Well.

Huh.

_Huh_.

“Cool,” Peter says cheerfully. “What’s your opinion on blondes?”

And that’s the last straw.

“O_kay_, Pete!” Tony begins, anger seeping into his voice. “Stop hassling Steve. It’s his prerogative if he doesn’t prefer brunettes or brown eyes—”

“But, dad—”

He crosses his arms in front of his chest. “You’re grounded for a week.”

“I was just asking!”

“They were inappropriate questions!”

“It’s fine, Tony,” Steve says, sounding way too calm and placating. “I don’t mind.”

“You’re too soft on him,” Tony says, instantly regretting his words.

“One of us has to be,” Steve says mildly and Tony almost chokes on his saliva.

Well.

Huh.

Well.

What the fuck?

“It’s still invasive.”

“I really don’t mind,” Steve says before turning back to Peter. “I’m guessing your friend saw me with Sharon?”

“He didn’t tell me her name.”

Steve laughs. “Well, tell your friend that Sharon and I are just friends. We used to date back in college but we’re just friends now.”

“That’s awesome,” Peter says brightly. “Ned and Betty broke up recently and they’re still friends. It’s cool when people could stay friends with their exes.”

Steve’s brow furrow. “Ned and Betty broke up?”

Peter nods. “Yeah. But they’re super cool about it.”

Steve smiles softly, affection radiating from him and Tony’s chest clenches. “That’s good. Tell them the next time they swing by, pie’s on me. Anyway, I should get out of your hair. I gotta finish with my own grocery shopping too.”

Tony nods more vigorously than he should. “Yeah. We also need to uh, finish up too.”

“Cool. Yeah. I’ll see you around the diner soon?”

Steve looks so hopeful that Tony doesn’t have the heart to turn him down. But at the same time, it’s a bad, bad idea because the last thing he needs is hope.

He must be taking a while to answer because Steve’s smile is slipping off his lips and oh _no_—

“We’ll be there,” Peter assures, ever the saviour. “We’ll stop by tomorrow.”

Steve beams. “I’ll see you guys then,” he says before he pushes his shopping cart forward.

“See?” Peter begins when Steve disappears from sight. “Now all you gotta do tomorrow is ask him out.”

Tony sighs, pushing his drooping sunglasses back up his nose. “Just because he’s bi and single, doesn’t mean he’s interested in me.”

Peter scowls. “We’ve been through this, dad. Anyone would be lucky to have you. And I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He _likes_ you.”

Tony mentally groans. This is not the time to have this conversation so he whips out his shopping list.

* * *

Everything is fine and dandy when Tony and Peter visit the diner the next day. Steve welcomes them with a big grin, Peter doesn’t make any stupid hints about love and crushes, and Tony doesn’t act like a buffoon.

That is until Peter decided to muck things up halfway through dinner.

“Hey, Steve,” Peter hollers from the other end of the diner. “My dad has something to ask you!”

“_Peter_.”

Peter returns Tony’s glare with a mischievous grin. “You’ll thank me later.”

“No, I won’t. I most certainly—”

“Anything I can help you with?” Steve’s voice cuts in and Tony almost jumps in his seat. He’s staring at him earnestly with a soft, soft smile and Tony’s heart melts.

Okay, he could do this. He’s Tony fucking Stark, genius, billionaire, ex-playboy, philanthropist, and father. He can do this. All he needs to do is work his old charms on Steve and presto! He’ll have a date come Friday. Or not. But it’s okay if he doesn’t. It’s really okay.

He can do this.

He inhales deeply.

“You do Pilates?”

Out of the corner of his eyes, Peter face-palms. As he rightfully should.

Steve blinks, startled. “What?”

Tony stiffens up and almost lets out a loud groan because where the fuck did that come from?

“I mean, you look pretty spry,” Tony babbles on and oh my god, someone shut him up right now. “I mean you’re pretty well-built and your shoulders? I mean, damn. An uh... You just look really good.”

Steve frowns, tilting his head to the side. Peter covers his mouth, barely stifling the snort coming out of him.

God, someone should kill him right now.

“I actually box.”

An image of Steve in sweats come to mind, his hands wrapped as he goes to town on a punching bag, drenched in sweat and his clothes clinging to him in all the right places—

And he needs to stop thinking of Steve like that because the last thing Tony needs right now is to have a boner in front of his son and crush.

“Oh cool. Cool, cool, cool, cool, cool.” Tony pauses, allowing his embarrassment to wash over him. “Just cool.”

And with that, he drops his head onto the table with a strangled groan.

“Um,” Steve begins, sounding way too concerned than he should be, “is your dad okay?”

“Yup,” Peter says casually, sounding like he’s trying to hide the fact that his father is a dumbass. “Actually, he wanted to ask you if you could get him a vanilla milkshake.”

Tony moves to cushion his head with his arms before letting out another embarrassed noise. Someone pats him on the arm. Definitely Peter showing sympathy. Either that or ashamed that his father is a total loser.

“You know what? Make it two.”

* * *

After that, Tony makes an extra effort to not visit _Cap’s Diner_, to the point that he avoids Brooklyn as a whole for the next couple of weeks.

He knows he’s being pathetic. Pathetic and overreacting and being just plain dumb. He doesn’t need Rhodey, Pepper, Happy or even Carol telling him so (who all found out about Tony’s pathetic crush because his son is a _rat_). Having his brain reassure him at every waking moment doesn’t help things either.

But on the bright side, his son seems to get the memo, ending _Operation: Get My Dad Laid_ hopefully for good. After the lecture Tony gives him for telling on Tony’s friends, Peter never brings Steve or the diner up ever again. Neither does he propose they eat at the diner, opting to either letting his father cook, ordering takeout or eating out at other restaurants.

Though Peter does shoot him the occasional scowl, which totally means ‘you deserve love and attention and Steve is definitely in your league’. Tony ignores those looks as often as he can.

But now he wouldn’t mind having one of those scowls sent his way because it’s been ten minutes since Peter said he’ll meet Tony at their favourite coffee shop after decathlon practice. Usually when Peter’s running late, he’d give Tony a heads-up.

Not today though. Today, there isn’t a word.

Tony glances down at the text he sent a minute ago.

_Tony: Where are you?_

He sighs as he slurps on his iced latte, too worried to bother wiping the excess cream off his lips. Maybe Peter’s discussing strategies with his friends or debating _Star War_s theories with Ned. Hell, maybe he finally asked MJ out which goddamn, it’s about time—

“Tony?”

He snaps his head upwards, meeting a pair of familiar azure eyes.

Oh no. Oh fucking no. Not again.

“Oh hey,” Tony says, mustering a grin. “Fancy seeing you here.”

“You too,” Steve answers. Tony flinches at the tone. It’s pretty obvious to anyone with ears that Steve sounds uncertain. Upset even. “Where’s Peter?”

“On his way here. He’s running late.”

Steve nods. “Cool.”

“What’d about you?”

“Bucky wanted to meet for coffee,” Steve replies before glancing around. Probably looking for his friend.

“You work at a diner.”

Steve shrugs. “He’s in the mood for something fancy.” He frowns, fishing his phone from his pocket. “Which reminds me, where the hell is he?”

As if on cue, Tony’s phone vibrates on the table.

_Peter: Whoops._

_Peter: Change of plans. Ned bought the new Super Smash Bros. game. So I’m staying over at his place for the night._

_Peter: I mean, I can always come home later if you don’t want me to stay over._

_Peter: Or Aunt May’s._

_Peter: Sorry. Forgot to tell you._

_Peter: Have fun with Steve though ;)_

Tony almost drops his phone in shock.

What the _hell_?

Did his son just set him up? Did his sixteen-year-old son, who has never gone on a date in his life, just set him up on a date with the diner owner who is way out of his league?

God, he’s going to ground that boy for the rest of his life.

“Tony? What’s wrong?”

Tony sighs heavily as he extends the phone to Steve. He might as well put himself out of his misery.

He watches Steve settles into the seat opposite him as he scans through the messages. He seems to be going through a whirlwind of emotions, his eyes squinting for a second to his eyebrows arching during the next, his cheeks flushing pink after that. Frankly, Tony doesn’t blame him for feeling whatever he feels.

“I’m so sorry for dragging you out here for nothing. Peter has this stupid hare-brained idea that we should date which is why he keeps dragging me over to your diner and he keeps dropping hints and trying to get me to ask you out but he can’t get it through his thick skull that you’re definitely not interested in a single dad who’s way too old for you and— What’re you doing?”

Tony doesn’t have time to ask because Steve is leaning forward, his fingers curled around Tony’s collar and yanking him into a bruising kiss.

The kiss, in Tony’s opinion, isn’t perfect. Tony’s lips are covered in cream and Steve’s are chapped and dry and he’s a little off his mark but Tony manages to tilt his head and their lips meld together fittingly and oh _fuck_.

Steve tastes of strawberries and smells of vanilla and aftershave and Tony _wants_.

All things considered, it’s the best kiss he’s ever had.

It’s over as quickly as it started. Steve’s lips hover over his. There’s a hint of cream smeared across his lips and his breath warm against Tony’s lips and fuck, his eyes are so _blue_.

“I am interested,” Steve breathes.

It takes all of Tony’s willpower to not pounce on him right there and then. But since they’re in public and there are kids in the coffee shop (god, they made out in front of _kids_; god knows if there’s a journalist lurking around, Jesus), Tony reins himself in, pulling away.

"Did you hear the part when I described myself as a single dad who’s way too old for you and worthless and—?”

“You’re not worthless,” Steve snaps before softening. “Sorry. I just hate hearing you say that about yourself.”

Tony frowns. “But it’s true.”

“No, it’s not.”

“Whatever. The point is, you can do way better than me.”

Steve crosses his arms in front of his chest, his expression hardening. He’d be more susceptible to his glare if his lips aren’t smeared with whipped cream. Plus, there're his arms. It’s hard to not stare because well, muscles. “No, I don’t think I can.”

Tony stares at him in disbelief. “You do know I used to manufacture weapons? Considering your background.”

Steve sucks in a breath as he settles into the chair opposite Tony. “That's not you," he whispers. “Not anymore. You're a changed man."

“You believe that?”

“I do.”

“But—”

“If this is your way of pushing me away,” Steve interrupts, “it’s not working. I've been crushing on you ever since you walked into the diner.”

Tony smirks. “Love at first sight, huh?”

“Something like that,” Steve says sheepishly, his cheeks colouring. “Though I’ll admit that I’ve been attracted to you since you made that announcement about pulling out of the weapons industry.”

Tony does a double-take. That was about a decade ago. “Really?”

Steve shrugs. “Bucky never fails to bring it up. Didn’t help that you started coming by.” He glances down at his phone before holding it out, his mouth twisted in a fond smile. “And speaking of Bucky.”

_Steve: I’m here now._

_Steve: Don’t see you though._

_Bucky: Whoops, forgot that I got a date with Sam tonight. Sorry._

_Bucky: But I heard a certain billionaire would be around so stop moping and tell him how you feel for fuck’s sake!!!_

_Bucky: Ask him out or I’ll sic Tasha and Sharon on you!!!_

Now, there’s another person that’s on Tony’s wanted list. So much for gifting him one of his prosthetic arms.

Tony slumps against his seat in total wonder and disbelief because not only was Steve moping because of him, it’s also the fact that Steve’s best friend and his son— _Fuck_.

“Did my son and your best friend set us up behind our backs?”

Steve laughs, pocketing his phone. “I think so. I’m guessing you’re the friend Peter’s been talking about?”

“Unfortunately.” Tony shakes his head. God knows how long they’ve been conspiring behind their backs. Hell, Tony wouldn’t be surprised if Bucky was the one who told Peter about their late night meetings at the diner. “Unbelievable. So, what’re you planning to do about it? I’m thinking of grounding Peter for life.”

“Well, I can’t ground Bucky,” Steve says. “I could give him half of his share for the month but then Sam would probably kill me.”

“You can always egg his house.”

“Nah, he’ll egg me back. I’ll think of something. Don’t worry ‘bout it.”

Silence befalls them, save for the bustle around them. Tony takes the time to drink Steve in, his reddened lips, his piercing blue eyes, his pink cheeks. Steve, one of the kindest, most beautiful, most fascinating, and frustrating man he has ever met, is interested in him. The thought of it alone sends Tony’s mind whirling.

“You know, I wouldn’t bake blueberry pies for people I wanna date.”

Tony arches an eyebrow, smirking. “Date, huh? So all the nights we spent together at the diner weren’t dates?”

“They don’t count because we were pining idiots who think the other is way out of each other’s league.”

Tony’s lips part in incredulity. “Okay, let’s establish something here. First of all, you are not out of my league. In fact, you're so far out of my league that—”

Steve cuts him off with another kiss and oh yeah. Tony could get used to this. He could _definitely_ get used to this.

“Um…” He grazes his lips with his fingers, his brain still trying to comprehend everything that has happened for the past ten minutes. “What was I saying?”

Steve huffs in amusement. “We were talking about dates.”

“I was saying something else after that.”

“No, you weren’t.”

“Uh yes, I was.” Tony brightens. “Oh, yeah. That you’re not out of my—”

For the third time in the span of ten minutes, Steve silences him with his lips.

They definitely have a lot of work to do when it comes to receiving compliments. But it’s fine. They have time.

* * *

_Tony: You can stay over at Ned’s. Or May’s if you want._

_Peter: ;))))))))_

_Tony: Peter Benjamin Parker-Stark._

_Peter: ;)))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))))_

_Peter: So am I getting my own breakfast?_

_Tony: Nah. I’ll pick you up from Ned’s. Or May’s. Just let me know who you’re staying with. We can go to Cap’s after._

_Peter: Ooh, yes! I’ve been craving pecan pie since yesterday._

_Peter: Anyway, have fun! Use protection! ;)_

_Tony: -_-_

_Peter: :D_

_Tony: You’re grounded for a month._

_Peter: :(_

_Tony: Be glad it’s a month. I was actually thinking of grounding you for the rest of your life._

_Peter: :((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((((_

_Tony: Fine._

_Tony: A week._

_Tony: Since you’re getting me laid._

_Peter: :D_

_Peter: But also._

_Peter: Ewwwwwwww._

_Peter: TMI._

_Tony: You’re the one that started it with the protection joke._

_Peter: Still._

_Peter: TMI._

_Tony: ;)_

_Peter: …_

_Tony: ;)))_

_Peter: ………_

_Tony: Love you._

_Peter: Love you too. <3_

**Author's Note:**

> I'm also on [Tumblr](https://nethandrake.tumblr.com/) and [Twitter!](https://twitter.com/kapteniron)


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